


Another day

by Thaum



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 18:52:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13817325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thaum/pseuds/Thaum
Summary: If life taught her anything, it was that it went on, no matter what.Oder für einmal auf Deutsch, da ich den Satz so schön finde, er auf Englisch aber bekloppt klingt:".. denn das Leben geht gnadenlos weiter, auch wenn Deine Freude daran stirbt."





	Another day

**Author's Note:**

> English isn't my first language. Be nice.

Another day came and went. And another. And then another. Anyone of them was harder to stand until she was convinced, if another one would pass as if nothing had happened at all, she would be swallowed whole by the void she felt inside. But then passed some more and she was still alive. Somehow. 

Jon came back, and just nodded when she informed him of everything that happened in his absence. He nodded, his face stern, his look approving, but somehow absent, as if she talked about the state of their supplies. As if she spoke about something inconsequential. As if she hadn't given up something of worth for their home, their future, for him, for their family. She couldn't help then but feel, like she killed the one and only person that had been her family. The only one, that had actually cared.

She found Bran staring at her multiple times. He knew. But he didn't say a word and she wasn't sure, if she should be relieved or if she hated him for it. Bran wasn't family anymore. He was the three-eyed raven. Whatever that meant on top of being detached from everyday life and empathy. If she wouldn't force feed him, he would be found dead in the woods in a matter of days. Embracing a tree. But he wasn't grateful. He wasn't anything at all.

Arya talked to her, afterwards. She was so full of joy and smugness, oblivious to the fact, that Sansa felt like retching at her feet or over the wall of the castle. It took inhumanly willpower to force her face into neutrality when she told her, that she really believed, that he'd loved her. She didn't tell her, that she had not only cut his throat, but something else. She didn't tell her, that she didn't knew, until that very moment when that cut hurt her more, than anything else ever had. Arya wouldn't have understood a single word of it anyway.

Since then, she waited for something to happen. Anything. It had to change something in the end, hadn't it? They'd made justice, didn't it mean anything? Everybody had wanted him dead so badly. Surely something good of importance had to come from it now? But somehow, it made no difference. _'It doesn't matter what we want. Once we get it, we want something else.'_  His words had never been more true. Right or wrong, no one cared, no one understood, what she'd done. Nobody would ever appreciate, what she'd sacrificed for family, duty and honour: the very last person, she'd still belonged to. Her siblings had each other. She was alone. 

And then another day went by. And another lonely, meaningless day, nothing changed at all.


End file.
